Getting over you
by EvaRose
Summary: What happens when House realized that Cameron is having an erotic dream about him? Probably not what you think.


**Rating:** PG-13 maybe R_ish_ for language

**Spoilers:** Anything through Season 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters but man do I like to play with them. So please don't sue me for having fun.

I want to thank veronicca05 for all the discussions and the encouragment. And I'd like to thank vicodin for her keen eye for grammar and for telling me when I sucked. Heheh. Without these two this story probably wouldn't be readable.

Getting Over You

When House limped down the hall of PPTH at 5:30 in the morning he assumed that the diagnostics department would be deserted. He had been unable to sleep, his latest case playing over and over in his head. So he decided to go in early and have a couple hours to himself to do what he did best; figure out the puzzle. Cameron, always the first of his ducklings to arrive, wasn't due until 7:00 and even then, she would busy herself with his mail and making coffee. So she would be out of his hair until at least 7:30 when the other two usually arrived.

When he entered his office though, he was surprised to see the very object of his thoughts, fast asleep at his desk with her face adorably mooshed into one of his medical texts. At some point she had removed her lab coat, and he noticed that she was wearing the same skirt and blouse as yesterday although now they were slightly more rumpled. Apparently she had been there all night.

As quiet as a limping mouse, House put down his briefcase and hung up his coat. Hobbling up to his desk, he looked down at the sleeping woman. His mind wandered back to that day in the hall a few months ago after he had successfully cured Stacy's husband.

"I used to think you were too screwed up to love anyone. I was wrong. You just couldn't love me. It's good. I'm happy for you."

At the time, he had been glad that she had finally given him up as a lost cause. She needed to move on with her life. Find some young "Gosh Darn, Gee Whiz" type of guy to settle down with, and when her fellowship ended she could leave and forget all about him.

But as the days and weeks went on and it became evident that she really _had_ snuffed out the torch she had been carrying for him, he found himself thinking about her more and more. He would never admit it, but he actually missed the subtle flirting and the looks that lasted a little longer than was necessary. He would throw little barbs her way, laced with insults and double entendres, but she never took the bait. She would just ignore him and do her job. And this drove him crazy.

While he was lost in thought, his hand, apparently with a mind of its own, reached down to gently tuck an errant curl of unbelievably soft, brown hair behind her ear. At his touch, Cameron let out a small whimper, the sound drawing his attention like nothing else could. The diagnostician in him took over and he noticed the rapid eye movement, the erratic breathing and the slight flush on her neck and face. That and the fact that she had just started making soft happy noises in the back of her throat drew him to the conclusion that his prim and proper little duckling was having an erotic dream. Interesting.

Curious to see what would happen, he ever so gently brushed the back of his hand against her cheek.

Cameron shifted slightly in her sleep and a small sigh escaped her lips, "House."

His hand froze in mid-air and his eyes widened in amazement. _Could she really be dreaming about me?_

"Mmmm House. S'good."

Yup, Allison Cameron was having a sex dream about her boss.

_SHIT! _House did the only thing he could do, given the circumstances: He sprint-limped out of his office and down the hall as fast as he could.

A couple hours later, Wilson strolled toward his office while whistling a jaunty tune. On his way in he had picked up Mr. Reimer's test results, and he was going to be able to tell him that his cancer was in complete remission. This kind of good news always put an extra bounce in his step.

Unlocking his door, he entered his office and picked up the mail his secretary had left for him before leaving the previous evening.

Flipping through the mail absentmindedly, he didn't notice the figure sitting motionless in the corner.

"You're late."

Letting out a high-pitched squeak, Wilson dropped his mail and nearly fell on his ass in his effort to get away from the disembodied voice. Turning quickly with his hand over his rapidly beating heart he saw House sitting casually in one of the more comfortable chairs of his office, wearing a rather smug smirk.

"Jesus, House, you scared me half to death. What the hell are doing in my office? How did you get in here?"

Instead of answering either of Wilson's direct questions he pulled his Vicodin out of his pocket and popped the lid with well-practiced ease.

"You scream like a girl, Jimmy," he remarked before dry swallowing one of the pills.

"What? I do not scream like a girl." He smoothed a hand over his tie trying to regain some of his wounded dignity.

"You most certainly do. I bet I could find someone in this wing of the hospital who would agree with me," House laughed, motioning toward the still open door.

Wilson, his heart now beating at a more acceptable rate, sat down at his neat and organized desk and scowled at his soon to be ex-best-friend.

"Yeah well you would scream like a girl too if some crackbrain jumped out at you in your own office."

"First of all, I quite obviously didn't _jump _out at you," he snarked, indicating his cane, "and second, there is no way I would have uttered a girly scream like that."

"Would too."

"Would not."

"Would t…shit." Rolling his eyes, slightly annoyed that House had been able to suck him into one of his immature little games so easily. Wilson sighed heavily and returned to his original question.

"What are you doing in my office?"

"Hiding."

"Hiding?" Wilson said unbelievably, "Stacy has been here almost 3 months and you still feel the need to hide from her? When are you going to get used to the fact that she's probably here to stay?"

"I'm not hiding from Stacy," he barked, scrunching up his face in disgust.

"Is it Cuddy? Have you been shirking your clinic hours again?" Wilson asked, in the mocking tone of a mother disciplining her child. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair.

House sighed and looked up at the ceiling as if looking for something, but not finding it.

"Well if it's not Stacy and it's not Cuddy, who could you possibly be hiding from?" He was starting to get exasperated at his friend's utter inability to have a normal conversation.

House looked out into the deserted hallway and tapped his cane on the floor a couple of time as if trying to make a decision. Decision made, he hoisted himself to his feet and limped over to close the door. He knew the hospital was a virtual rumor factory and he didn't want to add to the fodder by having someone overhear what he was about to confess to Wilson.

Wilson watched his actions in bewilderment. It had to be something big if House was worried about eavesdroppers. Usually, he could care less what people thought of him.

"Who'd you kill? Should I be expecting the FBI to be breaking down my door any minute now?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

"It's Cameron."

"Cameron?" He was now thoroughly confused.

"Yeah you know, Dr. Cameron. Immunologist. Cute. Pathetically sincere."

"I know who she is, I just can't figure out why you would be hiding from her."

"She wants me," House replied, his face completely serious.

Wilson looked confused, "She wants you?" This just kept getting weirder and weirder.

"You know Jimmy, if you keep repeating everything I say this conversation is going to take forever," he snarked.

"Wait, wait, wait," putting up his hands in a gesture of mock defeat Wilson shook his head and tried once again to decipher what House was trying to say. "So you're saying that Dr. Cameron wants you?"

"Yup, that's what I'm saying. I know it was difficult to figure out, what with all the _other _words that were coming from my mouth," he replied matter of factly, tapping his cane some more.

"I thought she was over you?"

"Well I guess she just can't resist this exquisite example of manly perfection," he remarked, his voice thick with sarcasm while waving a hand down his lanky form to indicate he was talking about himself.

Wilson was finally starting to understand what was going on. _For a minute there I thought the 10 years I had spent learning House speak had been for nothing_. He figured it was best to approach this situation clinically.

"And what facts have drawn you to this…rather startling conclusion?"

House leaned in closer conspiratorially, causing Wilson to do the same. He pushed his mouth to the side of his face and stage-whispered, "She was having naughty dreams about me."

Suddenly the pubescent teenager in Wilson was very interested in what House was saying. He resisted the overwhelming urge to laugh.

"Whoa! She actually told you that?" his voice was a few octaves higher than normal.

House stared him with a look that clearly said he thought he was off his rocker. "Have _you_ told that redheaded nurse in pediatrics that you've been having wet dreams about her?" he quipped, rolling his eyes. "Of course she didn't tell me that. I found her sleeping in my office, drooling all over my Atlas of Clinical Diagnosis, I might add, when she kinda moaned my name."

"She moaned your name? Holy crap! House, you dog, you. Wait, are you sure it was a moan of pleasure and not one of pain?" Wilson asked, still struggling not to laugh.

"Ha ha, very funny. I know it's been a while but I _do_ know the difference."

"I don't know, House. They say that there is a fine line between pleasure and pain, and it really has been a looong time." This time Wilson couldn't hold back the laughter.

House picked up his cane and waved it threateningly at the other man, "Let's test that theory, shall we?" he said with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

"Right, sorry," Wilson cleared his throat loudly in an effort to stifle his mirth. "So what happened next?

"What do you mean 'what happened next'?"

Wilson sighed and closed his eyes in frustration, massaging the back of his neck. Getting information from House was like pulling teeth. From an elephant.

"What happened after she moaned your name, you idiot?"

"How should I know? I ran like hell and have been hiding in here ever since."

Using his cane House pushed himself to his feet and started pacing. When he had completed the distance a half dozen times he returned to his seat and plopped back down with a frown.

"You need a bigger office," he pouted.

"Hey, what can I say, I'm just a lowly cancer guy."

House glanced up at his friend, who was regarding him with a look of concern. "Isn't this the part where the best friend bestows some unsolicited advice on the poor crippled shmuck?"

"What do you want me to say House? You're a brilliant diagnostician. You thrive on solving puzzles but whenever a puzzle comes along that you can't figure out you run and hide."

"That's not exactly the of advice I was talking about."

"Well I'm not done yet."

"Oh, goodie," House snarked, rubbing his hands together in mock glee.

"Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?"

House seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding with a sigh of defeat.

"For once, instead of running away why don't you try running toward something? Or…well, in your case, limp."

After a few seconds of silence House looked up at his friend once more and cocked an eyebrow.

"What, that's it? That's your advice?"

Wilson leaned back and planted his feet on his desk while crossing his arms behind his head smugly.

"Yup, that's it."

"Hhmph." House stood and headed toward the door. "I think I want my money back," he shot over his shoulder before limping out of the room.

Wilson just shook his head and sent up a silent prayer that no one would get hurt.

Cameron was bone tired but feeling quite content. Their patient was responding well to the treatment she had spent all night researching. Well, almost all night. Dr. House had even complimented her ingenuity, something he rarely did. The slight smile that accompanied his praise had sent a wave of pleasure that settled low in her belly. So all day she had been walking around with a goofy little grin on her face. But now, all she wanted to do was go home, take a long, hot shower and climb into bed for a solid 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Chase and Foreman had already left for the day so when she entered the conference room the only light was coming from House's office. She hung up her lab coat, grabbed her purse and jacket and, as was her custom, poked her head in to wish her superior a good night.

"G'night, Dr. House."

He was sitting in his easy chair and tossing his tennis ball up in the air when she entered his office. He caught it one handed before regarding her with a steady eye.

"Dr. Cameron, you look tired," he said offhandedly.

"Gee, thanks," she answered with a small laugh.

"It's no wonder… you didn't go home last night."

When she looked at him questionly he indicated her clothing with a flick of his eyes. "You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday."

Cameron looked down at her rumpled outfit and subconsciously tried to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Don't worry about it. We match now." He plucked at his own wrinkled button down to indicate his meaning. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

"I…uh…yeah, I kind of passed out at your desk while researching. I hope you don't mind."

House shook his head and took in the slight blush that graced her delicate features. _She's remembering her dream._

"So I guess you just want to go home?" he asked as casually as possible.

Cameron was starting to get a little confused. Usually, when she said goodnight to her boss, the most she got was a grunt of acknowledgment. This whole drawing her into a conversation thing was throwing her a bit off-kilter.

"That was the plan," she said, eyeing him curiously, "Why?"

House shrugged his shoulders and looked at the tennis ball in his hand as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. His upper lip was caught between his teeth giving away his nervousness. "I don't know. I just thought maybe you'd like to go get a coffee or maybe a bite to eat," he finally said.

Her blue eyes widened in astonishment and it took her a moment before she was able to speak.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Dr. House?"

"Sounds good," he agreed with his customary single nod, allowing a small feeling of déjà vu to wash over him, "Except for the date part."

Their eyes locked for a moment, both remembering the last time he had uttered those words. They'd enjoyed themselves then, so why not?

"I could use something to eat," Cameron said, suddenly feeling wide-awake.

House stood and limped out of his office without a further word, expecting that she would follow him. Which she did, almost having to run to keep up with his long, ambling gait.

When they reached his Corvette, they both climbed in and House immediately started the engine. But instead of putting it in gear and taking off, he sat there drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

"Top up or down?" he finally asked without looking at her.

"Down I think." It was a warm evening and she wanted to feel the wind in her hair.

He flipped the switch that sent the canvas top retracting and while they waited he took his pill bottle out of his pocket and swallowed a single white pill. Then, without warning, he threw the car into gear and, tires squealing, raced out of the parking garage. She had ridden in his car once before so she knew that even though he drove way above the speed limit he was a skillful driver and she had nothing to be afraid of.

They drove in silence, neither quite sure what to say, both wondering what the hell they were doing. When Cameron spotted a Denny's up ahead, she pointed and House swerved into the turning lane without bothering to look in the rear view mirror, thus cutting off two cars in his effort to not miss the driveway. He pulled into a parking space way too fast and had to slam on his brakes, causing Cameron to be very grateful for her seatbelt. Without a word he climbed out of the car and hobbled his way into the restaurant.

Cameron undid her seatbelt and shook her head at his retreating form, "This should be fun," she mumbled, climbing out of the car herself and trailing after him. By the time she entered the restaurant he was already seated at a booth and was in the process of arranging his leg so he could sit comfortably. She slid in the booth across from him, took off her jacket and laid it across her purse beside her. When the waitress arrived with their menus they both nodded at her offer of coffee, which she poured expertly before leaving.

House took a sip of his coffee and, grimacing fiercely, reached for the sugar. He tore open three packets and stirred them into the bitter brew. He took another sip and finally seemed satisfied that it was at least drinkable.

Cameron watched him; specifically, she watched his hands as they prepared his coffee. They were strong hands with long, graceful fingers. That one time she had been in his apartment she had noticed a piano sitting in the middle of the room. She imagined what his hands would look like as they danced over the ivory keys, and wondered if they would be as artful as they caressed her pale, quivering flesh. Damn, she was doing it again.

"Cameron?"

Startled out of her reverie, she tried to cover her embarrassment by stirring sugar into her own coffee.

"Sorry," she said casually, "I'm just tired."

"Uh-huh."

She could feel his eyes boring into her and she knew that if she were to look up she'd end up revealing way more than she wanted to.

"So, it looks like Mr. Reimer is going to make a full recovery," she said, trying to move his focus elsewhere.

"Who?"

"Our patient." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the strictly male trait of selective memory.

"Our patient, right. Good call, by the way."

"Okay, that's the third time you've complimented me today," she said, having regained her composure. "What's going on?"

"Well if that's what I get for paying you a compliment, just see if I ever make that mistake again," he drolled sarcastically.

Cameron sat back in her seat and looked up at the ceiling tiles in frustration.

"House, what am I doing here?"

"Don't know about you, but I'm here to eat," he said and, as if on cue, the waitress showed up to take their order. She shot him a look that said this was far from over before ordering the Chef's Salad with ranch dressing and an iced tea. House ordered the Bacon Cheddar Burger; hold the pickles. Typical.

When the waitress left to place their orders House watched her as she sipped her coffee and toyed with the paper napkin. After a few moments she glanced up at him, regarding him with a look that was curious, yet cautious at the same time. She never knew what to expect from him, and the mischief she saw gleaming in his ice blue eyes told her she better be prepared for anything.

"So…the whole getting over me thing; how's that working out for you?"

Unfortunately, she wasn't prepared enough as coffee came spewing out of her mouth and she started to cough uncontrollably. House actually started to get worried as her face turned an alarming shade of red and tears started streaming down her cheeks, but she finally managed to swallow a few sips of water and get the wracking spasms under control. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Relax. Just take a few deep breaths and drink some more water." His voice was soft and soothing with a note of something Cameron couldn't identify. When she looked up at him again he was waving his paper napkin at her and his eyes kept flicking from the table to her face and back again.

"That stuff you put around your eyes," indicating the makeup on her tear streaked face, "it's kinda running away from you."

Cameron instinctively wiped her hand over her face and when it came away smudged black, she sheepishly accepted the offered napkin.

"I didn't mean to give you a coronary," he apologized, smirking slightly as he watched her fruitlessly rub at her face.

"Yeah, well, you'd think I'd be used to it, given the crap that usually comes flying out of your mouth," she replied with a smirk of her own.

"You've been doing a good job of avoiding me the last little while so you must be out of practice."

He was right. Ever since Stacy had arrived and she had given him her _thought you were to screwed up to love…I'm happy for you _speech, she had done everything in her power to make sure she was never alone with him. She would come into work extra early to go through his mail and make the coffee, and then would disappear until Forman and Chase arrived for the day. It might not have been very mature on her part, but it was the only way she knew how to cope. She didn't want to put him—or herself, for that matter—through any more discomfort and tension than she already had.

"You know why I've been avoiding you, Dr. House." Her voice was soft but strong.

"Is it because I stink?" he asked sarcastically, raising his arm and sniffing for effect.

She couldn't help but laugh at his antics and just shook her head.

"It's the whole 'getting over you' thing," she quipped, mimicking his words.

His face suddenly turned serious and his gaze was so open in that moment that she couldn't have looked away even if she had wanted to.

"You never did answer me," he said, "how's that working out for you?"

She didn't say anything for a moment, pausing, trying to decide how she wanted to answer him. Should she be honest with him and tell him how her heart ached for him? Or should she take a line from his book and give him some flippant answer about how her dance card was full every night so she didn't have time to even think about him? She settled on a half-truth.

"Some days are harder that others but for the most part its getting easier."

This apparently wasn't the answer he was hoping to hear, and the disappointment registered briefly on his face before his mask of cynicism was replaced.

"So you don't sit up nights pinning over me," he snarked.

"Dr. House," she was starting to get annoyed, "what is it you want to hear? Why did you invite me here tonight?"

House shrugged his shoulders and starred into the murky blackness of his coffee.

"I guess I'm just testing the waters," he mumbled, shifting nervously.

For the second time in less than two hours she looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I wanted…" he struggled with his words, "to…see if there was still a chance…you know what? Just forget it." Grabbing his cane he clambered out of the booth as quickly as his leg would let him and limped toward the bathroom. When he reached the men's room he checked to see that he was alone before locking the door. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched the only number that he had stored in his speed dial. He leaned painfully against the counter and waited for Wilson to answer his phone.

"Hello?"

"This is all your fault," he growled into the tiny phone.

"What did I do now?" Wilson inquired with a noted lack of surprise.

"I took your bloody advice."

Wilson did a double take, "Okay… you'll have to give me a moment while I pick myself up off the floor…you took my advice? You never take my advice. Exactly what advice did you take?"

"I asked Cameron to dinner."

"No way!" There was a clatter and House could actually visualize Wilson hitting the floor for real; the image pleased him. "What did she say?"

"Well judging by the fact that she's sitting out in the restaurant right now I'm going to assume she said yes," he snarked.

"If she's sitting out in the restaurant where are you?"

House sighed and tapped his cane on the tiled floor. "I locked myself in the men's room."

"House, what did you do?"

"Why do you always assume that I _did_ something?"

"House."

Another sigh and some more cane tapping.

"I asked her if she had managed to get over me, at which point she sprayed her coffee all over me," Wilson moaned in dismay, "_Then_ I asked her if there was still a chance for us before bolting to hide in the bathroom."

"House, you have to get back out there. If you really think you could have a relationship with this woman then you have to get back out there. If you don't, and I find out, I'll have Cuddy assign you even more clinic hours. _So get. Back. Out. There_."

"I don't know if I can."

His voice was completely devoid of the usual sarcasm, and he sounded so lost that Wilson really started to sympathize with him.

"House, listen to me. You _can_ do this. The fact that you're showing an interest in a woman for the first time in five years proves that you can do it. This is your last chance with her. If you screw it up now you will lose her for good. No pressure, though."

"You certainly know how to bolster a man's confidence, Dr. Phil. I'll call you later." And with that he hung up the phone.

House turned to look at himself in the mirror, "Well you old cripple, we're in the 4th quarter, 4th down, 10 yards to go. What are you going to do?"

Running a hand through his unruly hair he came to a decision. Straightening to his full 6'2", he limped out of the bathroom. When the booth they'd shared came into view, he saw that their food had been delivered but, as he hobbled closer, Cameron was nowhere in sight.

_Why am I surprised_, he thought, _she was probably relieved at the opportunity to make a hasty retreat from her obviously insane boss._

"House?"

Cameron watched as his shoulders visible relaxed but he didn't turn around. Instead he sat himself back down before looking at her.

"I thought maybe you'd left," he said, his eyes downcast.

"I considered it," she said honestly, "but I didn't want to leave things the way they were."

"I wouldn't have blamed you," he spoke so softly that she had to lean in closer to hear him.

"House…"

"Hey look! Our food's here." With mock cheerfulness he looked down at his hamburger and scowled angrily. "I thought I said no pickles," he hollered. Making a "yech" face he removed the offending condiment and yelled, "No tip for you," at their waitress before flinging the pickles across the room.

"House!" Climbing out of the booth she frowned at him and went about picking up the food-turned-missile. She apologized profusely to the young woman who had waited on them before returning to her seat.

"That's my girl. Always cleaning up after me," House said around a mouthful of burger.

"Damnit House." She was angry now. "I'm not your girl. It's not my job to make up for your social ineptitudes, and to answer your earlier question, I really don't think there is a chance for us anymore."

House threw the remains of his hamburger down on his plate and wiped the grease away from his mouth with his napkin. This was not the response he had expected. After a moment he looked at her and shocked her with the intensity of his gaze.

"But you still like me."

"What makes you say that?" She was surprised when her voice didn't tremble. She didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing how viscerally he affected her.

"You have…_nice_ dreams about me." He put emphasis on the word 'nice' so she would know what he was talking about.

The way her skin flushed and her eyes dilated told House that she did indeed know what dream he was referring to.

"You were spying on me in my sleep?" Cameron hissed, outraged.

"Spying!" he said incredulously, his eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he couldn't hold back a chuckle. "You were asleep at my desk, drooling on my text. When I realized you were talking in your sleep I'll admit that my curiosity go the better of me but when I figured out what _exactly_ you were saying, " it pleased him to see her blush deepen to near scarlet, "I left so you could have your privacy. I wasn't spying."

She ducked her head, hiding her face behind the fall of her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm just embarrassed."

He gave a quick nod of understanding but added a "S'okay," when he realized she wasn't looking at him.

A few seconds of silence passed before her head shot up and she once again looked at him unwaveringly. The pain that he saw in her blue eyes made him want to reach out to her.

"But none of this makes any difference, House. We can't be together," she stated hoarsely.

"Why the hell not? Obviously you still like me and I'm trying to tell you…in my asinine way that…fuck…that I like you too."

Her eyes closed at his words as she tried to control the tears that were threatening to form. How long had she waited to hear him say those words? How long had she wanted him to admit his feelings for her? But now it was too late. She silently cursed his timing, she cursed The Powers That Be, and she cursed the way her body was craving his touch at that very moment. She had to be strong. She didn't think she could handle giving her heart to someone again only to have it torn to pieces when that person disappeared from her life like her husband had; like she believed House would.

When she opened her eyes again she noticed that they were drawing attention from the other patrons, so she reached into her purse and flung some bills down on the table before pulling herself out of the booth.

"I can't do this here," was all she said before bolting for the door. Part of her hoped that House wouldn't follow, and the other part wanted him to, desperately.

"And Wilson says _I_ have a problem with running away," House grumbled as he got to his feet and followed after her.

She was going a fair clip so by the time House limped out of the restaurant she was already half way across the parking lot.

"Cameron, wait!"

She stopped walking but didn't turn around as she waited for him to catch up.

"You said we couldn't be together. Why? What changed?" His voice was gruff with the unaccustomed emotion. But now that he'd come this far he wasn't going to quit no matter how uncomfortable he was.

"Just because I dream about you doesn't mean I still like you. I'm over you."

She still refused to turn around, so he put his hand gently on her shoulder and spun her around to look at him. He pinned her with an expression that said he didn't believe her.

"Try again," he whispered gently, "Why can't you be with me?"

She knew it was useless to lie to him.

"Because I can't be the rebound woman."

"The rebound…Cameron, what are you talking about? I haven't done this in five years. And, by the way you're looking at me right now, I seem to remember why." His hand tightened on her shoulder but she didn't flinch.

Smiling sadly, she placed her hand over his and gently removed it, giving it a squeeze before letting go.

"When Stacy came back into your life, with a husband, I hoped that, for your sake, you'd get some closure. God knows you need it. But all it did was help the fact that you still loved her become even more painfully obvious."

"_Loved_ her Cameron. Past tense. I don't love her anymore."

"That may be true, but you definitely haven't dealt with you feelings for her, past or present." When his eyes flickered away from hers briefly she knew she was right. "Apparently we both have issues with letting go."

For a moment they just looked into each other's eyes. House watched as a single tear rolled slowly down Cameron's pale cheek. He reached out and casually brushed it away. She flinched at his touch but continued to hold his gaze.

She took a deep breath and continued, "When you took me on that date, you told me that I had a need to fix things that weren't perfect. That I wanted to fix you. You were wrong. I don't want to fix you, Greg. I love you the way you are." She watched him as his eyes widened at her use of his first name and then closed when she uttered the word 'love'. "But you _do_ need fixing," she continued on, her voice raw with emotion, "Just not from me. The only one who can fix you is _you_."

He just stared at her.

Smiling, though she felt like her heart was breaking, she reached up and cupped his cheek in her palm caressing the rough skin slightly with her thumb. "I want you to be happy Greg. And if Stacy makes you happy…"

"Damnit Cameron," he was yelling now in his desperation to make her hear him, because obviously she wasn't getting it. "Is Stacy the one I'm having this insane conversation with in the middle of a bloody Denny's parking lot? No. It's you." To emphasize his point he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her hard against his chest. The handle of his cane pushed hard enough into her left forearm that when she undressed later that night she would see a bright, livid bruise there. When his lips met hers there was nothing gentle about them. They were rough and violent and passionate. Her hand was already on his cheek so it took no effort to tangle it in his hair as his tongue sought entrance and she succumbed to his passion. Their tongues clashed in a battle of wills that both were desperate to win.

Neither one of them new how long the kiss lasted. It wasn't until a car honked and someone yelled at them to get a room that Cameron came to her senses and pulled away from his torrid embrace. She took a few steps back and put her hand over her mouth in disbelief. She looked at him with such pain that he almost felt guilty for what he did. Almost.

"House, I'm sorry. I should never have kissed you," she choked out.

_So we're back to House already,_ he thought. What he said was, "Technically, I was the one who kissed you."

"Please House, we can't do this. I can't do this. Not now. It hurts too much. Just respect my decision."

Looking deeply into her eyes one last time, House realized that this was one battle he wouldn't win. And it stung. He looked down at his hands; they were both leaning heavily on his cane, and he slipped back into the more comfortable role of cynic

"Are you going to quit again?" he asked, still looking down at his cane that he was now tapping on the asphalt in agitation.

"Not unless you make me," she took a deep breath trying to calm her racing heart. "I realize that quitting last time like I did was probably not the best way to handle things. I don't want to do that again. I only have six months left on my contract. I'd like to finish them out with you. You've made me a stronger doctor." Silently she added that he had made her a stronger person as well. "Besides, anything can happen in six months."

His head snapped up and once again they were communicating with nothing but their eyes. _So there is hope after all_, he thought as he watched her raise her hand to hail a cab.

The taxi pulled into the parking lot and stopped beside the two doctors. She put her hand on the door handle and paused turning to grace him with a cautious smile. "See you Monday?"

He nodded once and gave her his own version of a smile, unaccountably pleased when her smile broadened, putting an extra twinkle in her eye, before she got into the cab. He watched as she was driven away.

She had rejected him—an interesting turn of events—but had left the door open to a possible future as long as he dealt with some of his issues. God knows he had more of them than the average man, but like she said, 'anything can happen in 6 months'. Limping over to his 'vette, he climbed in and started the engine. Taking off in a cloud of burning rubber, House was surprised to realize that for the first time since his infarction there was a tiny speck of hope in his heart. But no one, including Wilson, would know about it. He did, after all, have a reputation to protect.

**Author's note: Please before you all start lobbing hate comments my way, I realize that this probably isn't your ideal House/Cameron story. But I chose to end it like this because I truly believe that House has issues that he has to deal with before he and Cam can ever have a relationship. Realistically if Season 2 were to open with House going, "Your right Cameron. I love you. Let's shag," all the H/C shippersof the world might squee until they passed out but it could never last. **


End file.
